I surprisingly can't think of an appropriate title for this post. Which is weird since simply writing 'divorce' would probably suffice. Yet, somehow it just doesn't seem right.
It's funny how the mention of divorce often brings about such different responses from people. There are those who tilt their heads in sympathy, saying their sorrys with grief in their eyes. And there are those who act like divorce is a blissful moment, a right of passage and such, and believe my life should now be some never-ending party and endless counts of one-night-stands.
I don't really yet know how to respond to either.
I am still at odds with this word: Divorce. The emotion it stirs inside me is yet to be named. I am not sad. And yet I am not relieved. I merely just am. I consciously know that a new life has started, and yet subconsciously I don't exactly know if I'm quite really for this label I've inherited.
What does divorce mean, after all? That I give up when things get hard? That I am, myself, a difficult person to live with? Am I used goods? Will there ever come a time when someone, again, will see the new-shiny-toy quality to me....
Will I, myself, ever feel new again? This relationship, this divorce, was perhaps the single most terrifying thing I have ever done. I'm still shell-shocked from actually finding the courage to end something that I knew was not good. I've never actually taken that sort of initiative for myself.

So... when you run into me on the street and I utter this "D" word... please, don't hesitate to jump onto whichever side you so strongly belong. You can become emotional... or you can buy me a beer. But just don't wait for any clues from me. I'm still wrapping my head around it, too.